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The Tate Modern

Trying to readjust to London life, a couple of lovely evenings with old friends last week, plus an excellent dinner party... all very pleasant. I'm still not here though.

Saturday saw me headed for the Borough Market next to London Bridge, Southwark Cathedral all along to the Globe, a well loved stomping ground. Only this time I just couldn't connect into it at all. Ate some food, watched the rowing on the Thames... found myself a bit cut off for no reason. Decided to accept the fact that neither the people nor the food/history/event (London was all about the Great Fire this weekend) were interesting me at all, indeed, I was feeling rather unwell, so went into the Tate Modern instead because when you're feeling queasy, what you really need are art installations based on light, sound and motion sickness.

Anish Kapoor's  piece 'Ishi's Light,'  looks as though it would please you just by stepping into it, elegant and comforting, an odd combination. Dali's 'Metamorphosis of Narcissus,' really is beautiful, its textures and colours superb. I could really feel the movement of the Will to Change, from the kneeling boy to the hand of God/Time/Earth bearing the seed that bears the flower. Then I found myself swiftly losing the will to live among the German Expressionists.  Christian Schad's curious self portrait held my attention; another narcissus sprang up, this time out of the armpit of a scarred woman. Then I found that I was 'seeing' it wrong.


The greenish tint of Schad's see-through shirt was not as clear under the gallery lights; to me it looked as though the nipples and hair of his chest were on the shirt itself, like some sort of alternative print and that underneath, his skin was smooth, probably without much in the way of distinguishing features, as though he was a man putting on a man onesie.

I think I have a bit of a temperature, which usually helps me be creative, but as my work right now requires attention to detail and correction, it's not such a great state to be in.  I am looking forward to this Autumn and Winter. I am in Love though not with Here; and I want rain and cold to help me work.



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